


Pep Talk

by lately



Category: The Supersizers RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lately/pseuds/lately
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles is maybe a little chickenshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pep Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazy_Dumpling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dumpling/gifts).



> So, everything I know about these two comes from the internet or the show. Thanks to twitter, that includes knowing about how Giles's wife is in imminent danger of giving birth, which is the premise for this wee snippet of fiction.

“I hope you’re not calling me from the… room. Birthing room or whatever frou frou thing it’s called in maternity land.”

Giles laughs, hears the hysteric note in his voice, resists the urge to slide down the wall and hug his knees. “No, the stairwell.”

“Ah right. Not out yet, then, is it?”

He laughs again and presses his forehead to the concrete, closing his eyes. “The only thing that’s out is me. She kicked me out. Apparently I’m not—“ He gestures with one hand. “Supportive enough, or something.”

On the other end of the line, Sue snorts. “I could’ve told her that before you got her up the duff.” She sounds fond, and Giles lets his shoulders drop a little.

“I’m so glad I rang you, cheers, darling.”

“You rang me to be mean to you. It’s what you do.”

He laughs again, and it feels a lot more natural this time. “I suppose you’re right. It’s what _we_ do.”

“Do you want to hear about the dinner party I went to last night? It was an absolute trainwreck of an evening that will distract you thoroughly for a good five minutes.”

He does slide down the wall at that, propping his elbow on his knee, phone warm against his ear. “Go on, then. Did anyone get food poisoning?”

“Oh, too soon to say. But there was vomit involved.”

He laughs and settles in for the story, which ends up taking almost ten minutes, and he’s literally wiping away tears, coughing into his fist, as she concludes.

“And then I got in the taxi, holding my shoes in one bag and the remains of the pudding in another, just as a wine bottle came sailing out the door.”

“Was the bottle full?”

“Thankfully, no. The wine was the absolute culinary highlight of the evening.”

“Why didn’t you leave the pudding?” he asks, in between giggle fits that interrupt him every other word.

“Well, I didn’t want to seem _ungrateful_ \--“ she says, voice gone posh for effect, and he loses it again. He can hear her laughing to match a couple seconds later.

“Thanks, m’dear,” he says, once he’s got himself a little more under control. “I needed that.”

“I live to serve—or entertain as the case may be. You might want to quit cowering down the hall from your imminent offspring, however, and go see to your wife.”

“Right, yes,” he says, thrown right back into the hospital, and the reasons he’s there. “Of course, right.”

“Godspeed, brave soldier, once more into the breach—not that kind of breach—and so forth,” she says, gone plummy again.

“I’m going to insist we name her Susan, you know,” he says, simultaneously impulsive and sincere.

“What? God, no—don’t do it. She doesn’t deserve to be saddled with that, and I don’t need your wife having any more reason to give me that death glare.”

“My wife—“

“Your wife is in _labour_. Hang up and man up, Giles, before I’m forced to disown you.”

“Susan would make a fine middle name,” he says, not quite a retort.

“I’m hanging up now,” Sue says, but she’s laughing a little and Giles smiles a little to himself as he pockets his phone, leaves the stairwell for the corridor.


End file.
